“Agatha might have more sense,” returned her acetous companion. “I have bidden her forty times o’er to have these maids well ordered, and mine house as like to an holy convent as might be compassed; and here is she none knows whither—taking her pleasure, I reckon—and these caitiff hildings making the very walls for to ring with their wicked foolish laughter!—Agatha! bring me hither the rod. I will see if a good whipping bring not down your ill-beseen spirits, mistress!”

Elaine turned pale, and cast a beseeching glance at the pleasanter of the ladies.

“Nay, now, Cousin Meg,” interposed she, “I pray you, let not this my first visit to Oakham be linked with trouble to these young maids. I am well assured you know grey heads cannot be well set on green shoulders.”

“Lady, I am right unwilling to deny any bidding of yours. But I do desire of you to tell me if it be not enough to provoke a saint to swear?”

“What! to hear a young maid laugh, cousin? Nay, soothly, I would not think so.”

Mistress Underdone had entered the room, and, after dropping a courtesy to each of the ladies, stood waiting the pleasure of her mistress. Clarice was slowly coming to the conclusion, with dire dismay, that the sharp-featured, sharp-tongued woman before her was no other than the Lady Margaret of Cornwall, her lovely lady with the pathetic eyes.

“Give me the rod, Agatha,” said the Countess, sternly.

“Nay, Cousin Meg, I pray you, let Agatha give it to me.”

“You’ll not lay on!” said the Countess, with a contortion of her lips which appeared to do duty for a smile.

“Trust me, I will do the right thing,” replied Queen Blanche, taking the rod which Mistress Underdone presented to her on the knee. “Now. Elaine, stand out here.”

Elaine, very pale and preternaturally grave, placed herself in the required position.

“Say after me. ‘I entreat pardon of my Lady for being so unhappy as to offend her.’”

Elaine faltered out the dictated words.

“Kiss the rod,” said the Queen.

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